Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice)

by Wells, Linda

  “Do you think so?” He looked up hopefully.

  “You will be in Netherfield in a fortnight, whenever … here, it says that the Hursts will meet you there on the thirtieth and that Miss Martin expects to come to her aunt on the fifth.” Darcy looked up. “What more do you want?”

  “Robinson was invited to Netherfield, as well.”

  “He is just bringing his son home, why would he come? If he did, he is in mourning. He would not be socializing, Bingley.”

  “He does not have to, she is friends with Louisa.” He sank down onto the table. “I am finally ready, finally I feel ready to move forward, get the estate, open my heart, fall in love and the woman who I want to love might be happier with my brother. And after marriage to my sister, who am I to stand in the way?”

  Darcy looked back down at the letter. “She asks after you every time that she visits.”

  “Yes, I saw that.”

  “And do you not leap at every mention of her in Louisa’s letters?”

  “Yes.” His expression reflected his hope.

  A slow smile came over Darcy’s face. “It seems to me that you are both dwelling on memories of each other. And here you have actually met, unlike my story. You know that the woman in your mind is not the creation of your imagination. To paraphrase a friend who once spoke to me at a ball, “Listen to your heart Bingley. She is beautiful, delightful, witty, and cares for you. You have been carrying this attraction for so long, there must be something to it!”

  “That was me.” He smiled and laughed softly. “Unfair using my words against me like that. I am a fool.”

  “I am as grateful for those words as I am for Richard pushing me to chase after Elizabeth. Take your own advice, Bingley.” Placing his hand on his shoulder, he gave it a squeeze. “And I have heard from an excellent source that we are all fools in love.”

  20 SEPTEMBER 1811

  Once again I am amazed with the woman I have married. Not only did she organize and direct the annual Harvest Home for our staff and tenants last night, but she was up nearly at dawn marshalling the servants, making sure that everything was packed and ready for our journey to London and Hertfordshire tomorrow morning. Those lists that she keeps warmly tucked in her bosom are regularly consulted, and I quite enjoy seeing them appear, as she knows very well. Perhaps she teases me by searching for them?

  However, despite the display of confidence and strength, despite the treasured laughter that seems to bubble forth from her like an artesian well, I am sensing a change in Elizabeth. This is not of a physical nature, her body is undoubtedly changing with the growth of our baby, but this is something else. For lack of a better word, she is shy. I know that is not the best choice of word, vulnerable perhaps. My Elizabeth has become Lizzy in so many ways again. It is as if we are newly wed, a touch, a glance, the slightest brush of my lips when we are able to steal a moment alone brings on a sigh, a shudder, she melts into me as if I am her refuge, and I would be lying if I said that I did not love how it makes me feel. I am saying this so badly, I know. I cannot describe properly what it is.

  Perhaps it is the baby, waiting and anticipating that first movement that is due to come soon. Perhaps she is beginning to feel fear of losing him. I see her at times when she thinks she is unobserved, caressing over the place where he lives, whispering to him as she does to our Rosa when she sleeps or is sitting quietly. Is she encouraging this child to keep growing? Does she fear for her life? Love, please, do not sink into that fear, you are my strength, I draw from you. You will be well.

  Elizabeth wiped her eyes and whispered. “I am shyer? Vulnerable?” Caressing over the baby, she caught herself and stood from the writing desk, and walked to the window to look out at the lawn below. She could see the stables and carriage house in the distance, and there were Darcy and Bingley, surrounded by staff, and going over the coaches for the journey with great attention, just as he did every time that they made a trip. Every detail was set, the inns, the horses, even the food and distractions within the coach were all his responsibility. He refused to let her take that over. She watched him rise from where he crouched, checking the springs, then clapping Bingley on the back; he walked over to Onyx and climbed on, kicking him, and rode down the drive, towards the lake, and down the path to the woods. “You are going to the glade.” She whispered, and wiped her eyes again. “You are saying goodbye until we return.”

  When he did return, he found Elizabeth asleep on their bed. He kissed her plump cheek and caressed back her hair, and beside her laid the roses, the last of the year, he had picked from Rosalie’s bush. Entering the sitting room, he saw that her journal was open, and he sat down to read.

  20 September 1811

  Fitzwilliam, why is it that you know me better than I know myself? I am feeling so many emotions right now that I could not hope to identify a single one, much less explain it. To read your thoughts, I can only agree with the conclusions you have drawn, but there is another that you have missed. I am glad that I am able to tell you why I am lost to the touch of your fingertips, why I sit up at night and watch you sleep, why my breath is caught in my chest when you suddenly look up to me and catch my eye across a room, why I keep a handkerchief scented with your cologne by my side, it is because I see the man you have become and I believe, my Husband, that I am falling in love with you all over again. Perhaps more deeply in love is the way to describe it. You are not the young man I encountered in the park anymore. I wonder; had we not met that day, if by some miracle you had become friends with Mr. Bingley and he had taken Netherfield, would you still be journeying to London and Hertfordshire tomorrow? Would this be the beginning of our story, and would I be someone you would have wanted? How changed we would have been from who we are now. Am I feeling vulnerable, my love? Oh yes. I am feeling how very fortunate I am to be loved by you.

  “Dearest Elizabeth.” He said softly. “How do you know my thoughts so well? I was in our glade talking to Father about this, only you are brave enough to tell me your thoughts, and I am too afraid to even think of what might not have been.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Would I have been friends with Bingley? Yes, I believe so. Would he have needed my help to find an estate to lease? Most likely. Would it have been Netherfield?” He shook his head. “Stop.” The rustle of a gown made him look up to see Elizabeth walking towards him holding her roses. “Sleep well, love?”

  “Yes.” She sat on his lap and his outstretched arms clasped around her tightly. “Thank you for my roses.”

  “Thank you for my love letter.” He kissed her cheek. “I feel the same way about you.”

  “You do?” Elizabeth looked back and into his warm eyes. “All over again?”

  “Yes, over and over again.” He laughed to see her pleasure. “What do you say, when we go to Netherfield, we imagine we are meeting for the first time?”

  “That might be difficult at night when we are sleeping side by side.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “We can suspend play at dusk.” His eyes twinkled back. “Come love, we are both apprehensive of this journey. We have terrible luck in London in autumn, and I honestly do not anticipate visiting at Longbourn. Shall we have a distraction? Shall I meet the twenty-year-old Elizabeth Bennet for the first time?”

  “Who would I be, I wonder?”

  “Who would I be?”

  “Oh, you would be insufferably proud.” She said instantly and he looked at her in surprise. “Well you would not have had me to check you!”

  “Then you would be … I do not know, but I will think of something.” He lifted his chin when she laughed. “Something awful.”

  “Thank you very much!” She cried and tried to wriggle free. His arms held her tighter. “Fitzwilliam!”

  “hmm?” He nuzzled his nose to her throat. “Yes, love?”

  “I am so glad that we are not meeting for the first time now.”

  “AND HOW WAS ROSALIE on this journey?” All eyes travelled to the ceiling where the sound of four pairs of feet
pattered above them. Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “Still full of spirit I gather.”

  “It was both easier and harder than it was when she was an infant.” Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who was nodding. “She is old enough now to be somewhat easier with vocalizing her boredom and needs …”

  “And she is quite capable of expressing her boredom and needs.” Darcy sighed. The Gardiners’ laughed and he shrugged. “It was not all that bad. She enjoyed watching out the window, we had books and toys, and occasional treats. It was switching her between us and the servants’ coach that saved us.”

  “Saved me, you were riding with Mr. Bingley outside a good bit of the time.”

  “To give you room inside.” He said with a grin.

  “To give you sanity!” Elizabeth poked him and he shrugged.

  “And you wonder why we have declined your repeated requests to come to Pemberley. Multiply your experience by three, and take away the respite of the second coach.” Mr. Gardiner grinned. “No escaping on a convenient horse for me, either!”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I understand, I do, but I so wish that you would come to visit. Next summer, you must make the journey! The children will be old enough to be well-behaved, and they would love it there! They could learn to ride, the boys could fish, there is just so much to do and explore, you would get to see Lambton …”

  “Dangle that carrot before me!” Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “Well, perhaps. We will have the extra funds …”

  “No Darcy, I am not going to accept your charity.” Mr. Gardiner put up his hand when Darcy’s mouth opened. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir.” He shrugged. “The offer stands.”

  “Thank you.” Mr. Gardiner winked and smiled at how easily the Darcys sat together, fingers entwined, and studied Elizabeth’s face. He glanced at his wife, who raised her brows and nodded. “Now then, your plans, how long will you be in town?”

  “About three weeks, then we will move to Hertfordshire.” Elizabeth and Darcy sighed together.

  “You suddenly look as if you are to be condemned. It is not as bad as that, your parents are much improved.” Mrs. Gardiner clucked at them. “Give them a chance! Jane and Robert have made great inroads with your mother.”

  “So I have heard. I am very proud of them. Lydia will be gone back to school soon though, and she was a buffer between Mama and Jane.”

  “Kitty will be there.” They all glanced back at the ceiling; Kitty and Georgiana were playing with the children.

  “Kitty is not a strong personality. She reflects the people she is around. I am so glad that Papa agreed to Mrs. Annesley coming with her.”

  “Lizzy, if at any time during her stay Kitty feels that she needs to leave Longbourn, she is welcome to come here. Now that she is out, she can accompany us to any social engagement we might have.” Mr. Gardiner said seriously. “We would be glad to have her and Mrs. Annesley.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Darcy said sincerely. “We appreciate that.”

  “Would you consider hosting Lydia next year after the school term ends? Perhaps she could make the journey to Pemberley with you and help with the children? I know that she is not comfortable with our lifestyle, but it would be nice to have her visit once at least.” Elizabeth looked between them. “You did note that she has improved.”

  “Well that would make the trip easier.” Mr. Gardiner looked at his wife. “I suppose we will consider it next spring.”

  “You will be here for the Season then, so we can talk about all of that then.” Mrs. Gardiner pursed her lips when they glanced at each other, and started to laugh. “Unless you have other plans?”

  “Aunt!” Elizabeth cried. “What are you saying?”

  “Lizzy, I have three children, what do you think I am saying?” She stood and crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek. “Congratulations, my dear.” She kissed Darcy. “When will he come?”

  “March.” Darcy beamed.

  “You were itching to tell us, Son.” Mr. Gardiner shook his hand and kissed Elizabeth. “All is well?”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Elizabeth wiped her eyes with Darcy’s ever-present handkerchief. “We have not told Kitty and Georgiana.”

  “I will not say a word.”

  “I told Bingley.” Darcy said quietly.

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  “It just popped out … after he guessed.” He looked at her guiltily. “He was such a mess just then, talking about Miss Martin …” Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. “Forgive me.”

  “Can that man keep a secret?”

  “Well, he has kept his feelings for Miss Martin fairly well bottled up.” Darcy shrugged and kissed her hand. “I trust him.”

  “What about Miss Martin?” Mr. Gardiner sat forward. “I ran into her father a few weeks ago. Her two suitors have abandoned her. In fact, the one, the banker, has transferred his affections to her sister. She has taken a great risk; I hope that she is not disappointed.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Then she is sincere in her feelings for another. She could have lived a very significant life with Mr. McCoy.”

  Darcy sat forward. “Is that person she cares for Bingley?”

  “No idea.” Mr. Gardiner shook his head. “Martin hopes only that she finds happiness. The mourning has made things difficult for everyone. Ah well, it is nearly over. I truly like Bingley. He has struggled a great deal trying to find his place in the world. I understand the difficulties of trying to move from where I am to where you are, Darcy. I would not relish it.”

  “I agree, as frustrating as he seems to have been over the past few years, it is easy to forget that absolutely everything he has experienced has been untested territory for his family. He is on an expedition into the unknown.” Darcy grinned. “And about to plant the Bingley banner in a bit of earth in Hertfordshire!”

  “And claim it in the name of advancement!” Mr. Gardiner laughed. “Is there a Bingley crest?”

  “Well if there is not, we can have Kitty draw him one.” Elizabeth smiled. “A dove?”

  “The harbinger of good things?” He kissed her cheek. “Would not we all like to be viewed that way?”

  Chapter 20

  30 September 1811

  Bingley is on his way to Netherfield, and not a moment too soon. I say that not because he embraced Elizabeth so tightly that I was ready to pull him away and beat him to a bloody pulp (yes, love, I understand that he needed reassurance), but because he has been a bundle of nerves waiting for the day of his lease to begin, and we have only been in town for four days! Of course, it has not helped his state not knowing anything of Miss Martin’s feelings. She did not visit Mrs. Hurst since we arrived and when he went by Mr. Martin’s shop, neither he nor his daughter were present. He told me of his conversations with Hurst, and I am afraid that his brother was noncommittal with his answers. When he spoke to Robinson, he said wonderful things of Miss Martin, which did nothing to calm my friend.

  “Sir?” Foster knocked on the study door. “Mr. Stewart to see you?”

  “Stewart?” Darcy smiled and set down his pen. “Please send him in.” He rose to his feet and moved around the desk in time to shake hands with his beaming friend.

  “Darcy, look at you! You are exuding joy, I hardly recognize you! It must be Mrs. Darcy’s doing. Where is she, I must ask her the secret to this miracle!”

  “You are displaying why you belong in the profession you have chosen, Stewart, glibness is a requirement, I believe. Or perhaps you would be best pushing patent medicines on an unsuspecting public?” He grinned and moved from the door. “My lovely bride and my charming daughter are the joys of my life, one is shopping. I leave you to conclude which.”

  “I think I have a fair inkling.” He chuckled.

  “What brings you here? I thought you would be in Moreland or visiting your wife’s family. How is Mrs. Stewart?”

  “Julia is very well, thank you. She is in Derbyshire, as a matter of fact.” Stewart took a chair before Darcy’s desk and smiled when he sat beside
him. “I had some business to attend and took advantage of her visiting her parents to dash to town.” Darcy made a noise. “Snorting is unbecoming.” He said with a glare. Seeing only a half-hearted shrug, he snorted himself and continued. “We were going to visit Pemberley when I returned. Naturally Julia’s mother knew that you had left for London, so here I am! What brings you south?”

  Darcy laughed. “Leave it to Mrs. Henley to know everybody’s business. Our visit is two-fold, delivering my sister to school, and then visiting Netherfield.”

  “Ahhhh, Bingley! He moves in at last!” Stewart chuckled. “He will love the estate, excellent game. I thoroughly enjoyed the sport there.”

  “Many types of sport.” Darcy said softly and Stewart’s brow creased.

  “That is water long under the bridge, Darcy. We are both very happily …”

  “No, no.” Darcy waved his hand and sighed. “Forgive me, you misunderstand.”

  Studying his old friend, Stewart noticed a familiar mask slipping over his face as the atmosphere changed. His smile disappeared and the tone of his voice softened. “All right, it has been a long time, but it seems that I need to prod you to speak. What is wrong? Is everything well with Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Of course! How can you suggest otherwise?” His head snapped up.

  Stewart held up his hand. “He doth protest too much, methinks.”

  Darcy looked away and his lips pressed together. “Would you call me insufferably proud?”

  “No.” Stewart looked at him askance. “Not now.”

  “Not now.”

  “No, but there was a time, Darcy I told you to your face what a miserable bastard you had become, do you remember that at all?”

  “No.” He looked down at his hands. “Well yes, but not like that. I suppose that I was worsening with time?” He looked back up.